


There's a Longing in the Sound

by LPSunnyBunny



Series: Sen's Scenes [1]
Category: Warframe
Genre: Mild Body Dysphoria/Horror, Neural Links Are Weird, Sensory Overload, Waking Up From Cryosleep Is Not Pleasant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPSunnyBunny/pseuds/LPSunnyBunny
Summary: "Wake up, Tenno."That is how it starts.





	There's a Longing in the Sound

_Hiss-snk_

 

Cold. A rush of air.

 

“ _Wake up, Tenno._ ”

 

Tenno? Tenno. _Tenno._ A desperate, clawing grip. Levering him-her-them? Out of the pod, hands reaching. Something, something is- missing- **_there-_ **

 

Falling. Mud, wet and clinging, seeping between their joints.

 

_Disgusting. No. Yes? Who-_

 

 _“Do not be afraid, Tenno.”_ A voice. Female. Right? Familiar. _“You have been asleep for a very long time.”_

 

 _Asleep. Slumber. Standby?_ Pushing against the ground, to their knees. Falling. Knees sliding in the mud.

 

Everything is…. clumsy.

 

 _Where?_ Head raising, looking up at the dim sky. Shuddering leafs overhead. Systems unstable. _Systems? What?_

 

_“I know everything must be confusing. I am the Lotus. I have awoken you from your slumber.”_

 

The sky is deep purple. Stars. Fixation on them, looking up.

 

 _“An enemy is approaching to the west. They will not reach you soon, but they are encroaching on this territory and it has become unsafe”_ The Lotus is saying, but only a little of attention is on her.

 

Feet planted firmly. Rise up. Shaking. The mud is unsteady, slippery, but-

 

_“There is a ship, to the east. There is a Cephalon there that will help you. Please hurry. You can regain your strength in full once you are safe.”_

 

-they _stand_.

 

There is a strange touch. They look down at their hands. Raise one to their head. The touch is- soft, but. Not real? Inside.

 

_Systems check. What?_

 

Red across the board. No. Green there, and there-

 

_What is… happening?_

 

 _The ship._ A map, sprawling out in front. A green marker. They study it, before raising their head.

 

They take one, shaking step forwards and their feet slide sideways on the mud, sending them sliding to the ground, stumbling sideways. Slamming into a thick slab, the impact sending a shudder through their form. Grabbing at it for purchase. Feet sinking into the bog.

 

They lean against the cold slab. Look around, limbs shaking.

 

_Where are…..am…..?_

 

A clearing, ruins. White columns, trying to reach for the sky, but crumbling from destruction and age. A thick ivory platform, circular, shattered apart and pushed into the ground, fragments sticking up at odd, jagged angles. Everything is hard to see, in the dim light. The mass of trees beyond the clearing is just…. Dark shapes. Thick shadows, almost physical.

 

Vines everywhere. Draping down from trees, over the ruins, reaching for… for...

 

For _something._

 

And there, above, a cryopod. Brought up towards the sky by thick, twining tree roots, growing up and around and lifting it from its original place of rest.

 

 _The ship._ A reminder, a goal. They push off the tree, steady themselves, take a step. The mud threatens to shift, but it holds. Another step.

 

Clambering over roots.

 

_Undignified. What? No. It’s fine. Right? What's….. Happening….._

 

They stumble. Drop to the ground, hand coming to their head.

 

To _his-her-their-our-yours-_

 

 _It_ **_hurts-_ **

 

Scrabbling at the mud. Thick, wet mess fills their hands, searching for something to hold. Hands shaking, no, they’re steady, a marksman’s stillness, gasping, trying to _scream-_ hands grabbing at their face, smearing cold mud over the smooth plates _(they have no mouth they have no mouth they have_ **_no MOUTH-_ ** _)_ and the fabric wrapped around and around and around and _around_ their head.

 

Grabbing at it to tear it off, but-

 

 **_No._ ** Their hands stop, jolting forcefully. No, they have to leave it on. _Why? No. Just- leave it._

 

They hadn’t noticed it before. The forcefulness of their denial had ripped them out of their foggy panic and now they could tell- their vision was halved. Twisting their head back and forth, looking, looking.

 

 _Why? Too much without. Ah._ Even now, they could feel the creeping strain of sight filter in. An ache. Shaking their head, trying to disperse it.

 

 _The ship. The goal._ Urging. They climb to their feet again. Everything is cold, clammy- messy. Sliding into their joints.

 

The shadows of the trees swallow them whole, taking slow, careful steps, following the map laid out before them. A vibration running through them, uneasy, uneasy. Almost like fear, more like fatigue.

 

The world is not quiet. It is noisy and loud and overwhelming and each sound slices through their head like a bullet. The layered _hh-wwwshhh_ of leaves, the deafening _err-ker-KER-KER-KER_ of the tiny little insects, the thick _suqu-llllllch_ with each step in the mud, it builds and builds into a crescendo until they drop to their knees, hands grabbing at the sides of their head, trying to block it out.

 

Red across the board. Systems unstable.

 

Something flips to yellow, and the world goes silent.

 

 _Oh._ Hands falling away, head tilting up. A hollow silence, filled only by the soft hush of moving air. The internal whirring of systems.

 

_Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump._

 

It flips to green. The world rushes in.

 

It is…. manageable. Not so deafening.

 

Systems repairing, slowly.

 

_Systems….? I don’t…_

 

They look down at their hands. Flex them. Notice, for the first time, the barrels along their forearms. With barely a thought, they slide forwards and the grips slot into their hands like they are built to fit there.

 

Weapons. Pistols.

 

 _Regulators._ Something vicious, bubbling up inside. Something primal and pleased, overpowering with the feeling of **_mine_ **.

 

Raising the guns, their hands are clumsy. It feels wrong. Heavy, too heavy, not heavy enough. Their hands are deadly steady. Not steady enough.

 

The Regulators are cold, dragging their hands down to the ground. Their hands shake with the weight of it. The cold burns, searing, and they banish the Regulators to their original position.

 

 _The ship._ A reminder, once again. Keep moving. It is not safe.

 

 _Right._ Pushing on through the darkness, one step at a time. They can feel their systems slowly repairing, running internal checks and light tweaks, nudging lines of code into place until there is a wash of blue, sweeping over their skin, settling into place.

 

_Shields online. Protection._

 

The tense line of their shoulders drops slowly. The marker on their map grows ever closer.

 

A protrusion from the earth. A metal curve, up and then down again, a hulking shape in the darkness.

 

Lights.

 

 _“Good morning, operator.”_ A prim female voice greets them as a box appears in their vision to the right. In it… cubes in rings, cubes pressed in a geometric shape, the rings spinning slowly, orbiting the cubes. _“I am Cephalon Naomi. Please, come closer.”_ The squares move in and out with the voice, as it talks. A little shifting of intonation.

 

The sky is a soft purple, now. Morning. It is dawn.

 

They stumble forwards, towards the metal mass. It is where the marker lays. It must be the ship.

 

They lay a hand on it. It hums to life under them, white rippling across the surface, lines skittering away.

 

 _“Identity confirmed.”_ Naomi said. _“Your ship is waking. Please, step back while I clear this… mess.”_

 

They step back.

 

A beat. The ship rocks to one side, then the other, and they spot two metal protrusions at the back, wiggling back and forth, trying to free the ship.

 

A burst of heat and wind. Mud flies everywhere. Splattering across them as well.

 

 _“.....ah. My apologies. I was not prepared for such a… disorderly reaction. In future situations, I will request for you to be further back.”_ Naomi says, after a beat. A loud hum fills the air, revving up- followed by a sickening squelch. _“However, your ship has been released from it’s confines. Please come inside.”_

 

The ship hovers over them as a section lowers, revealing a ramp.

 

They don’t hesitate- they grab the edge and hoist themselves up. Arms shaking. They collapse on the ramp, limbs tucked in as they tremble, the ramp starts to close, pulling them up into the belly of the ship.

 

 _“Prolonged cryostasis has potentially severe effects- compounded with your abrupt awakening, you may feel a number of side effects.”_ Naomi says, as the ship hums around them, turning and starting to pull up away from the planet below them. _“I do hope you are not in pain, operator. You are displaying signs of distress and post-cryostasis tremors. I would recommend you rest and recuperate until you are feeling better. I would recommend your personal quarters for rest, but it seems parts of your ship have been damaged. If you can make your way to the helm of the ship, I-”_

 

Shaking, they raise one hand, bringing their four fingers against their thumb in one sharp motion.

 

 _“I- my apologies operator, I do not know what that means. Are you requesting something?”_ Naomi asks, sounding almost apologetic. They nod.

 

_“Is there any other clue you could give me?”_

 

_Hush. A desperate press back against a wall. What is-? I don’t-_

 

They bring one finger to their- face. ( _There is a distant, disturbed thrum of no mouth, no mouth-_ )

 

 _“Quiet? Are you asking for silence, operator?”_ Naomi guesses, and they nod.

 

 _“I understand.”_ Naomi’s voice lowers immediately to a soft, hushed level. _“You must be experiencing sensory overload from all of your senses being returned to you after your long cryostasis. I shall dim the lights as well. Please get my attention when you feel better.”_

 

The lights in the ship turn down to a soft glow, and they curl in a little more. Naomi’s screen winks out of their vision.

 

 _Who- who who- are you- am I- are you my-_ Freed from the immediate threat of danger and the pressing need for attentiveness, they find themselves curling in, clasping at themselves. Questions swirl around their head, fighting for dominance, a push-and-pull of feelings and worry, desperation, confusion.

 

 _Where- I cannot- what has been_ **_done-_ ** _are you my- are you my- --- --- - I cannot- see me, see me I am here, I am here- please- let me- I can’t think- don’t go- I need-no are you- Let me- please-_

 

Clawing at their shoulders, gripping themselves. Practically shaking apart, trying to wrestle with themselves. A link, splintering.

 

 _No, no, no nononopleaseitsokpleasenoicannotnopleaseloseyounoneveragainnoyoure_ **_MINE_ **

 

A burst of thought, like clarity.

 

_I am not alone._

 

Pressure receding, like the tide. Pulling back and leaving heavy, damp sand behind.

 

Hesitation, no- _anticipation._

 

A touch.

 

A bond _sings_.

 

**_I am here._ **

 

 _Oh. That’s…._ A soft press of minds. A connection, vibrating with tension.

 

_…_

 

**_…_ **

 

_…_

 

_Are you… my…_

 

**_Warframe._ **

 

_Yes… that._

 

 **_Yes._ ** A low hum of feeling. Relief. Recognition.

 

_I don’t… understand._

 

**_Mine._ **

 

 _I’m… yours?_ A pause, like a cat going still. A rush of feeling. Confusion, a press of minds. Images, blurry and confusing. Splashes of red. Horror.

 

_Stop! Stop, what are you-?!_

 

**_You are mine. I am yours._ **

 

_I- I don’t… remember._

 

**_Remember me, Sen._ **

 

_…_

 

A rush of choking, cloying feeling at the name. Sen. _Sen._ He was _Sen._ Sen, Sen, Sen Sen _Sen_ -

 

 **_My_ ** **_Sen._ ** Satisfaction.

 

_I… you were my… Warframe. My…_

 

**_…_ **

 

 _My… Sedona…_ Savage, fierce satisfaction bursting through them at the words.

 

 **_Yes_ ** **_._ **

 

Everything falls into place. No longer fighting to be heard, Sedona relinquishes control to Sen, who is no longer uncertain and unsteady. As the last of their systems lit up green, fully repaired, Sen pushes them up to their feet, reaching out to establish a connection with Naomi.

 

 _“Operator.”_ Naomi sounds surprised at the connection. _“Are you alright, now?”_ Her voice is still low.

 

 _“I’m okay._ ” Sen projects the words as best he can, still feeling a bit shaky. _“You’re… Naomi?”_

 

 _“That is correct.”_ Naomi says, sounding pleased. _“I am your Cephalon, meant to guide you and assist you in all matters.”_

 

 _“Where.. am I?”_ Sen asks.

 

 _“Your obiter is currently orbiting around Earth.”_ Naomi answers promptly. _“It was approximately one Earth hour before dawn at the time you were awoken from cryostasis.”_ Naomi proceeds to rattle off a set of numbers that were presumably some sort of date, but to Sen’s jumbled brain, and without a point of reference, it was useless data. Sedona logged it away, setting her internal clock properly.

 

 _“Okay…”_ Sen shakes their head a little. _“I think… I need to… rest.”_ He tells Naomi. _“That lady… Lotus? She said… hostiles were approaching or something. Can you keep us safe?”_ He asks.

 

 _“Of course, operator!”_ Naomi says immediately. _“Please, take all the time you need. My purpose is to assist and serve.”_

 

Sen nods a little, taking a slow look around the ship. There- a corner he could rest them in. He takes a couple of slow steps over, trusting in Sedona to get them there- then he was putting their back to the wall and sliding down slowly, until they were tucked into the corner.

 

 _“Thank you._ ” He projects to Naomi.

 

 _“Please, think nothing of it._ ” Naomi tries to demur, but Sen can hear the flustered pleasure in her voice before she cuts the connection.

 

Sen sinks into Sedona, and quietly allows himself to shake apart, overwhelmed and exhausted.

  
  



End file.
